The Perils of Reading Utter Tosh
by Raven Sky Costello
Summary: AKA: The Perils of Not Getting Enough Sleep When You're 21. Total crack!fic. Harry has just become a Professor at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Snape and his shiny skin and bright teeth haven't paid him any attention since he arrived 3 hours ago. Sad.


**Author's Note:** This took me twenty minutes to write, so forgive me if it's bad. Actually, don't forgive me. It's meant to be that way. I'd been up for a very long time (I was nearing the forty-eight hour stage) and passing my time reading fanfiction. Unfortunately, that fanfiction was incredibly bad and included a lot of descriptions I really didn't like. So, I did what I do best. I ranted on facebook to Lea-Lea the Panda (headgirl91) about it, and accidentally wrote what she considers to be a pretty funny crack!fic. Therefore, it's at her insistance that I bring you: **The Perils of Not Getting Enough Sleep When You're 21.**

* * *

Harry stared at Snape from his place two seats down at the Head Table. The spy extraordinaire, of course, didn't notice because he was rather too busy glaring at first years and hoping to put the Fear Of God (tm) into them before their first Potions Lesson of Doom (tm).

The Professor, once ugly and greasy in Harry's eyes, had never been so... perfect. His hair hung about his shoulders in silky waves that seemed to glint in the light, catching every little bit of it greedily. _Oh, _Harry thought, feeling a sensation he couldn't quite describe_. It looks so soft, and silky, and glow-y in the light. I want to run my fingers through it and... No I don't! This is Seve-Sna-Seve-SNAPE! Ew_!

His skin, once sallow and jaundiced was now emitting a golden glow, his tan obvious for all that he still spent as much time in the dungeons as ever. His skin looked so tasty, Harry just wanted to lick it all over. The nice tan offset his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, brilliantly, and his lips - by the gods, no longer were they thin lines lifted in a perpetual sneer! A smile of dazzling beauty, almost ethereal, now graced those wonderful, shiny lips.

And his nose - oh Merlin's soppy wet knickers, that nose! It was perfect, aquiline. Neither bump nor nasal hair to be seen! Harry wanted to kiss it, rub his own nose against it in a sensual display of everything that could possibly be right in the world.

But the most enchanting thing of all was his eyes. Gone were the cold, dark whirlpools of the past. Now they seemed to glow with a warmth that set Harry's... heart... on fire.

When the man wasn't terrifying his students, of course.

Sooooooooo intense! Maybe one day they'd be trained on Harry, and only him, and he'd be the centre of the solar system, not that bloody sun. Of course, he bloody well should be, too.

After he had defeated The Dark Lord, rounded up all the stray Death Eaters, saved fifteen Muggles, a squib, and a weird pink fluffy thing he thought was called a Furby (all singlehandedly, of course, because he was just that awesome), Harry deserved to be the centre of a man as warm and loving as Snape's universe!

But alas! Alas! It could not be. For the Potions Master did not love Harry, or even look at him twice. Not since the start of the school term (admittedly, only half a meal, a Welcome speech (with warnings of Dire Consequences For Any Red Haired Trouble Makers, of course) twenty or so Sortings and the Sorting Hat's annual failed attempt to prove to the world it had a modicum of writing ability left, ago) had Snape even so much as spared Harry a glance, much less a conversation.

_No_, Harry acknowledged, his eyes becoming wide and desperately filled with a deeper pain than any mere mortal shall ever know. _He will never talk to me. No matter that he saved my life before Voldieshorts could get a chance to kill me. He hates me! Oh woe! Oh woe is me! Why does my life suck so much? Why don't I have decent friends, and parents who love me enough to give up everything for me, and the man of my sensual dreams?_

There, at the High Table in the Great Hall, during his first Welcome Feast as a Member Of Staff, Harry James Potter burst into pain wrecked sobs. Tears streamed down his cheeks, rushing down, down, down until they hit the table with a 'pit-pat-pit-pat' and gouged out whole rivers and oceans of pain with their force.

Everyone else seemed rather happy tucking into their pudding, so... I suppose bursting into tears in the middle of a room full of colleagues and students is a perfectly acceptable thing. Oh hell, who am I kidding? Trelawney still teaches there. It's practically normal!

Harry stood up with a clatter, tears still chasing tears, as heavy, pained sounds escaped his throat in a symphony of agony. His chair fell backwards and his plate mysteriously hopped up and down, making an absolute racket and spraying gravy, carrots and left over bits of beef everywhere.

As Harry ran out of the Great Hall, he was gratified to realise that he was not being followed, that he still maintained his usual stealthy demeanour.

He didn't count on his soul reaching out to another.

Snape was gliding towards where he sat, sobbing. He'd felt a tug in his chest that he couldn't explain, and followed it, like the awesome super spy hero that he was.

"Oh, Harry! Harry, my da- Harry, what's wrong?" Snape asked, keep a tone of calm indifference, as always, to mask the deep love he had always had for Potter.

He gasped when Harry's eyes met his. There were such depths of pain and anguish there. And underneath it all, love, and hope, and possibly a cauldron. Harry always looked like Snape's perfect things.

"I'm in love! In love with a man who never even speaks to me - who hates my very guts!" Harry cried out, suddenly no longer sitting despite the author not describing anything at all about him standing up. Oh well, my mistake.

"Oh," Snape said, his heart breaking with a dramatic sounding 'thud-dunk'. "Oh Harry! Forget all about him. No sane man could resist a man as brave and sexy and gorgeous and charming and irresistible and generous and strong and loving as you! Tell me at once who he is, so that I might take his heart out and break it to smithereens."

"But Severus," Harry cried out again, using the man's first name for no given reason. "It is you! I have been suffering ever since the students got here a couple of hours ago. I can't bear it. I've loved you for as long as I've been alive! Ever since I was a squalling infant so young as to have no awareness of the world. Since forever. Before even the sun itself was born, I loved you!"

Snape, of course, was very much shocked by this.

"That's a mighty long time. But Harry! I have loved you longer still. I have loved you since before my nose gained it's new, aesthetically pleasing state! Please, let me hold you in my arms. Say you'll love me, tonight! Be mine, forever. Let's not rush our relationship, because I love you so deeply that I have been saving myself for you. We will be together for always and forever, and when I marry you and make you round with many impossible babies, I will prove to you my never ending love!"

Harry threw his arms around Severus, burying his head in his shoulder and looking him directly in the eye. At the same time. Don't even bother asking me about the logistics of this.

What he saw there stole every breath he'd ever made right from his lungs. For Snape's eyes were filled with love, and loyalty - endless black orbs, swirling with the light of the sun and Harry was sure he could make out the rotations of Jupiter in them. Shame they didn't get together earlier, actually, because that would have been really useful for Astronomy.

And with that, Harry's lips met with Severus' for the first time, as they consummated their love right there in the Entrance Hall. It was the most perfect kiss either had ever had (possibly the first, too, because Snape really used to be such a Greasy Bastard) and they felt the tingles all the way to their souls.

The rest, I'm afraid, is up to your imagination, because the author decided to try a hitherto unknown concept of proof-reading their own work and spontaneously exploded in a fit of horror at exactly what drivel she had spent the past twenty minutes or so writing.

* * *

Let me know what you think!


End file.
